May Swenson

Fountains Of Aix Poem by May Swenson

Beards of water some of them have. Others are blowing whistles of water. Faces astonished that constant water jumps from their mouths. Jaws of lions are snarling water through green teeth over chins of moss. Dolphins toss jets of water from open snouts to an upper theater of water. Children are riding swans and water coils from the S-shaped necks and spills in flat foils from pincered bills. A solemn curly-headed bull puts out a swollen tongue of water. Cupids naked are making water into a font that never is full. A goddess is driving a chariot through water. Her reins and whips are tight white water. Bronze hoofs of horses wrangle with water. Marble faces half hidden in leaves. Faces whose hair is leaves and grapes of stone are peering from living leaves. Faces with mossy lips unlocked always uttering water, water wearing their features blank their ears deaf, their eyes mad or patient or blind or astonished at water always uttered out of their mouths.